Admiration
by Rhythm.Weaver
Summary: The bond between a polished young shinigami and his unconventional Brooklyn girls.  Fusion #1
1. The Brooklyn Devils

A/N: I have just a few quick and simple things to say before you may continue reading, so please don't skip over them.

1) NOTHING in this FanFic is written with the intention of romance. All love portrayed is friendship-ly and familial.

2) This FanFic (and the other in its compilation) are written based off of the manga, though anime knowledge should be sufficiant for the vast majority. I will put a warning at the beginning of any chapter that contains any manga spoilers.

3) For more info. on this FanFic or the others in its compilation, please see my profile and/or PM me with any questions.

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><p><strong>Meister<strong>: Death The Kid

**Weapon**(**s**): Elizabeth Thompson and Patricia Thompson

**Weapon** **Type**(**s**): Demon Pistols

**Resonance** **Form**(**s**): Black Needle Guns

**Special Meister Ability**: Grim Reaper and Death God

**Let's** **go!**:_"Resonance rate stable, noise at 0.3%...feedback in 5 seconds…_

_Four…Three…Two…One._

_Ready to fire!"_

_Are you ready?_

_"Death Cannon!"_

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><p><strong><em>Death The Kid #1: The Brooklyn Devils<em>**

_Throw it away_

_Forget yesterday_

_We'll make the great escape_

_We won't hear a word they say_

_They don't know us anyway_

_Watch it burn_

_Let it die_

_'Cause we are finally free tonight_

_~The Great Escape; Boys Like Girls_

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><p>Elizabeth and Patricia Thompson had <em>thought <em>it would be one of those easy-muggings. You know: —

_(one of those hit-and-run, no-law-enforcement, make-money-quick types that goes so smoothly we end up with a pocket stuffed with cash without cops on our tail._)

—the type where you count the money and you realize you've got enough for dinner for a whole week.

Or maybe you don't know—

_(most people don't. We're so alone, alone… Alone doesn't begin to describe it…)_

—how it feels to live that solitary life on the streets, fighting for your life every day.

Liz had taken a few shots of… well…—

_(something good, something that makes me feel better than these pathetic, rich-and-"mighty" creeps. Something that makes all the shooting, killing, terrorizing, threatening seem not-so-bad.)_

—she wasn't exactly sure what. "A few shots" was enough explanation for her at the moment. She didn't care about such _simple _things right now; they didn't matter.

She and Patty stalked along in the shadows, following the strange boy with the white stripes in his hair. He had a suit on and, from the looks of him, was arrogant enough to have some _real _money on him. He was definitely one of those spoiled rich kids; morons with so much money they could—

_(do anything they wanted. Host a feast, go shopping for fun, buy a mansion.)_

—bathe in it. Liz hated kids like that; they made her sick. Patty cackled in anticipation as she rested in her sister's hand, poised and ready to feel her sister's wavelength shoot through her barrel. Liz prepared to jump the teenager…

And her stomach growled. It wasn't particularly quiet, but the boy was _much _too far away to have heard it.

He whipped around instantly, as though the faint sound actually _had _reached his ears.

"Who's there?" he demanded. Liz, determined to silence him before he had a tantrum and alerted any cops, flew out from behind the dumpster and tackled the teen, shoving him against the wall and jabbing Patty into his neck.

"Empty your pockets, kid," she shifted her cigarette to the other side of her mouth, "give me all the cash you've got." Her stomach rumbled again; —

_(we're hungry, famished, starving. Give me what I need to feed my sister, what I need to stop the stomach pain, what I need to feel like I can _provide_.)_

—dear _God _she was hungry.

It was like this most of the time. Liz had a rule that any food went first to Patty, then if there was anything left over, she could have it. There was rarely anything left, and when there was Liz suspected Patty hadn't eaten her fill. The substances she filled her body with didn't help much either; they just made her hungrier…

Hungrier as she floated high above moral standards.

He just looked up at her with half-lidded, golden eyes —

_(no, he's looking down, down, down. How can someone shorter than me look down to see me?)_

—and scowled lightly, staring at the cigarette.

He muttered something to himself, and even at this close proximity Liz couldn't quite make it out. His eye twitched once…twice. His hand twitched, but not towards his pocket; towards her cigarette.

Then, without so much as one discernable word, he knocked Patty away—

_(nobody pushes my sister around like that! Nobody, nobody, nobody! I won't let them!)_

—and she laid into him. The force of the punch radiated back up her arm, but the boy doubled over, and she felt like she would burst with vindictive satisfaction.

But then he straightened up as though nothing had happened. A blow like that should have had him gasping for breath for the next five minutes, not five _seconds._

Liz stared in disbelief, first at the boy,—

_(and people call us unnatural, inanimate weapons. What sort of thing is this freak?)_

—and then at her own fist. In all her experience on the streets she'd never encountered something like this.

The child simply walked away, never turning to check and make sure—

_(I never clicked Patty's safety switch off, why not? Why don't I shoot now? I should put a beam through his head; take his money while he lies there.)_

—that he was safe. He could feel their wavelengths, and knew the meister had no wish to dirty her weapon further with any more unnecessary murder.

He decided he would escape without any more —

_(threats, guns, danger, hungry girls, pain…)_

—disturbances.

Even after he left, though, something bugged his conscience. Sure, she shouldn't be stealing, but he could have at least given her _something. _It didn't even have to be money; even food would have been _something; _after all, hadn't he heard her stomach growling? Why had he left her there when he'd known she was hungry?It wasn't until later that he found them again and—

_(deeming us worthy, beautiful even, with that deformedly-happy, not-right face.)_

—rescued them. He knocked flat every single one of the hit men that wanted the demon pistols. It didn't matter how many came at him at once, he took them out systematically and without hesitation.

After he finished he took the mess of bodies and stacked them, muttering under his breath, into a tidy pile. It was almost frightening how meticulously he organized the groaning forms. He leapt easily to the top of the heap, flipping neatly around in midair so that he faced the girls. Then—

_(looking from his high throne down to the scum of the earth: the robbers, murderers, despicable inhuman weapons)_

—he stretched out his arms and—

_(begging, pleading, beseeching, almost weeping to us.)_

— asked them to become his weapons. Asked them to join him on his missions to free the world of kishin eggs and ensure world peace. He asked them to fight with him until the day he took his father's place and they would stand beside him, one on each side.

He asked them to leave the streets behind to come with him—

_(to eat his feast and live in his mansion and bathe in his money. Oh, sweet Lord, his moneymoneymoney…)_

—and in exchange, he would clothe them and feed them. They would have beds to sleep in and a roof over their heads.

"Cinderellas! Patty, we're Cinderellas!"

_(I'll take you for everything you've got. I'll suck you dry, you miserable, worthless, pampered, soft mama's boy. You just wait.)_

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><p>AN: So, there's chapter 1! As a reminder (or a first-time informing, if you didn't read the author's note at the beginning of the chapter, which I would highly recommend you go read now), any more information about the FanFic/the entire compilation may be found on my profile. You can reach me by PM with any questions as well.

_~Rhythm Weaver~_


	2. Two Golden Blazes

**A/N: This is an explanation for why I haven't updated. If you only want commentary on the chapter itself, that author's note is at the bottom. **_OMG, I'm so so sorry it took so long to update! I promise this wasn't a case of "I don't feel like it." I've been dying to get back to you guys (Thanks for all your awesome reviews! I love you all!), but my parents took away my computer until I cleaned my room. And, unfortunetly, I was working as an assistant counselor for a camp, so I was unable to clean for more than an half-hour a day (yeah...my room was real bad...)_

_Anyways, long story short, I finally got it back! Yay!_

_So here is your long awaited update. Thank you guys so much for your support and reviews and alerts! I promise to be more on top of things in the future!_

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><p><em><strong>Death the Kid #2: Two Golden Blazes<strong>_

_Alone in this fight with herself and the fears whispering_

_If she stands, she'll fall down_

_She wants to be found_

_The only way out is through everything she's running from_

_Wants to give up, and lie down_

_~Stand in the Rain; Superchick_

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><p>She couldn't believe he'd actually given her the money. He'd looked straight into her eyes with his two golden infernos and handed her the desired number of green bills from the safe.<p>

She couldn't believe it. She just couldn't.

She had been away from her stuff for too long: the pills, the shots, the drink, the cigarettes… She was going to get them all back tonight. She knew where to find a dealer for the illegal stuff and where to find the sleazy places for the beer and nicotine.

The dealer had sized her up, trying to decide whether this girl was there to find damning evidence for the police or whether she was a serious buyer.

If her withdrawal symptoms hadn't made themselves known _right then _he wouldn't have given her anything besides, perhaps, a knife in the back to preserve security.

She had succeeded, though, and a few minutes later was tripping into the liquor store for a couple beers. They had the cigarettes, too: she bought a pack of those good, wonderful, easy, calming cigarettes. They would be so amazing after dealing with that neurotic perfectionist. It was wonderful to have it all back after so long.

It _was. _She _knew _it without a doubt.

Death the Kid was just being unreasonable, plain and simple. There wasn't anything wrong with what she was doing!

No one can quit cold-turkey; that just doesn't happen. She'd pick the whole "no drugs, drinks, or smokes" thing back up tomorrow.

But she just couldn't forget his eyes, drilling into her as he had those "talks" with her. Not the ones about the birds and the bees (she hoped he would _never _try to have _that _"talk" with her), but the ones about the substance "abuse."

She preferred the phrases "substance application," or "substance utilization," or, on a good day, she'd tolerate "substance exploitation."

They were tools that she used to not only survive, but to deal with life as well. They weren't crutches: they were _tools, _and she sure as hell deserved to use anything she could after all she'd been through.

Didn't she?

She just couldn't forget those fiery, amber eyes!

Golden fires: _"Make good choices, Liz."_

She _was. _She was just soothing her desires so that she wouldn't totally break under pressure later. She was doing this because she had decided to. It was her choice, and it was one based on fact.

It was the best choice given the circumstances. Plenty of other people agreed with her, who cared if one young shinigami didn't?

Burning suns: _"These addictions are controlling you, Liz"_

_ Nothing _had control of her body except herself. Death the freaking Kid was _wrong, _he just _was._ Wrong, wrong, wrongwrongwrongwrong _wrong WRONG…._

Her thoughts began to drift from her grasp as the chemicals she put into her body kicked in and began to do their job. The downers, like the alcohol, fought the uppers, like the pills she'd gotten her hands on. She forgot her problems for the long walk home, but upon reaching the door hesitated before knocking.

There seemed to be something…deep within her memories…something that she really ought to remember…

…about…a pair of…

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … eyes?…

Roiling flames: _"You won't be allowed into this house with those _things _in your system."_

But the worry just sort of…

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … floated… … …

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … away.

She fumbled with her keys, but couldn't pick out which one was the right one of the bunch. Which key was for home again?

… … … … … … … … … … … Home… … … … …

It was pretty nice, having a home; it might be nice to keep it a little while longer. She hesitated again before knocking, something about ignoring her meister's orders nagging at her.

What was it?…

… … … … … … … … …Oh well.

She gave up and knocked on the door.

"Liz? Is that you?" She could hear his voice from down the hall as he approached the door. As he was pulling the huge wood door open, "You're late: you were supposed to be back ten minutes ago. I just can't abide…by…tardiness." He was beginning to realize she hadn't taken any of his advice.

"Oh, Liz, what did you do?" Liz giggled nervously, unsettled by his reaction. The boy with white stripes just shook his head sadly and put his arm around her, turning her away from the open door.

"Sit down out here, then, I suppose. I warned you, you're not allowed in this house like that." He sat her down on the stair. She fidgeted as he went back inside, hating the chilly concrete stair.

When he emerged again, Kid was carrying two completely symmetrical lawn chairs which he proceeded to set up on the front yard. He guided his wobbly weapon over to one and helped her onto it, ignoring her raggedy, foul-smelling breath as it blew down the back of his neck. He left one last time to retrieve two waters and, handing her one, proceeded to sit himself down in the second lawn chair with the second water.

"Well, may it begin," he murmured, "I suppose we're lucky Patty's not here today."

Liz pretended she hadn't heard him. Because if she had, or if she heard _anyone, _for that matter,say anything about Patty's absence being lucky, she'd have to punch their daylights out.

She much preferred rambling on to her fussy meister about everything and anything that crossed her mind, jumping up to act out the funniest parts to her stories and them lurching back into the chair until the next part that deserved special treatment.

He just listened to her, pasting on a fake smile at the right parts, shaking his head with a smaller more-genuine exasperated smile whenever she tripped or banged into something.

As she slowed down, losing energy and substances from her bloodstream, he began to tell her stories of a woman. She'd lived happily with a wonderful husband in a large mansion and, soon, they had a child.

What the mother hadn't known was that her husband wasn't totally, well, human; Kid stumbled over the word as though "human" were a foreign term.

When the husband finally admitted that he was more than mortal, the woman just couldn't cope with the idea of him never aging, of her son never dying, while she would shrivel and old age lay its claim on her. She struggled through her life, living hour by hour, minute by minute. The little child had to watch as his mom deteriorated.

The husband was busy with his job, and wasn't there to watch over her, to comfort her. She eventually began to drink, and the little boy could sense something was different. There was something in that brown liquid his mom would drink out of glasses and bottles and cans that was changing her. He was just too young to understand what it was.

The drink turned out not to be enough. The woman started experimenting with drugs, seeking solace in little white tablets and sharp syringes. The child never did learn exactly which kinds his mom had succumbed to; by the time he was old enough to ask, his dad had been forced to evict the woman for his son's safety. The dad became known as "father" because "dad" reminded the boy of "mom," the name he had once-upon-a-time called his mother.

The fairy tale was over so quickly.

The little boy was forced to live in his large, empty house alone, starting at age four. His father's job wasn't something that could just be delegated to someone else, but it was far too gruesome for a child to watch.

Liz soaked every word up, not really understanding the full implications of the story until the very end of Kid's speech.

Then she began to throw up: huge heaves that emptied her entire stomach over the course of about two very long minutes.

Kid held her long hair away from from her face through it all, rubbing her back precisely in the middle, giving her soft words of comfort and assurance.

An undertone to the retching, solemn and sad: _"I won't let you take the path my mother did."_

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><p><strong>AN: **_So there it is, chapter 2! I promise this is the last one I write where Liz is high; it just seemed to fit with the one before it and I couldn't help myself. Just so that everyone knows this is _not _my personal opinion on where Kid's mom is or what happened to her or whether or not she ever even existed. I haven't formulated a good theory yet (anyone who knows me knows that I make theories about books I read as I read them. The same goes for anime)._

_Anyways, this explanation just sort of wrote itself. It wasn't pre-planned or anything but I thought it added something to Kid's character and helped flesh out the chapter._

_So I'm done: that's it for this update! See you all next week (I promise!) on the next episode of... ADMIRATION!_

_(Da ta ta tum! Da DUM!)_

_~Rhythm Weaver~_


	3. Shattered

**A/N: **I know that not many of you probably care, but I was pretty disappointed that absolutely NO ONE reviewed the last chapter. I said I would keep my update schedule, and here I am, proving that. But I want everyone to know that the only reason you're getting an update is that promise.

If you're looking for the chapter-specific A/N, you should know the drill after two chapters (hint: end of the chapter); now my minions: READ!

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><p><strong><em>Death The Kid #3: Shattered<em>**

_Does anyone care?_

_Is anybody there?_

_Take this life_

_Empty inside_

_I'm already dead_

_I'll rise to fall again_

_~Give Me A Sign: Breaking Benjamin_

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><p><em>It started with an innocent stumble and a childish "Oopsie!"<em>

_It ended in terror._

...

Patty had tripped over her own two feet, tumbling into a pedestal that had held a vase perfectly centered in the completely symmetrical room. The pedestal had tipped… swayed… fallen.

...

"_Patty_!" both meister and sister scold her as she hangs her head in shame. After a couple of minutes, Kid sighs tersely.

"You two head on out. I will…deal with the damage."

Liz drags her sister out of the room, assuming that "dealing with it" means "cleaning it up." So she distracts her sister from the broken vase with a TV show: one with different colors and shapes and puppet-animals and pigs that really go "oink", but maybe Patty decides they go "meow".

Then they watch a show Liz wanted to see, and Patty makes fishy faces at the kiss scenes.

They color because Patty wants to, and Liz doesn't care enough to argue.

They read. (Picture book for Patty, of course.)

Then, hesitant and halting: "Sis? Where's Kid?"

Liz is ready to answer, to shrug her sister off and remind her that Kid is cleaning up the vase. Remember, the one _you _broke?

But then she sits up. How long has it been? Something has to be wrong; cleaning up a few pieces of broken glass doesn't take this long. Maybe he doesn't know how, but was embarrassed to admit it. He is rich, after all: perhaps he had a maid his whole life to deal with this sort of thing. So the two weapon sisters pad quietly up to the door, and Liz opens it.

Immediately, instinctively, she tries to push Patty back out into the hallway, but her little sister has already seen. There is no hiding this bright crimson horror.

Liz walks cautiously towards her meister with the carved up, shredded hands. It's so hard to see those hands through all the blood; Liz isn't even sure that he still has all his fingers. He's kneeling among the shards.

_Oh, God, what must his _knees_ look like?_

"Kid?" she whimpers, scared to speak. He looks up at her, hollow. How long has he been sitting here like this?

"I'm fixing it, see? That piece goes there, this goes here…" he returns to his task. Liz can see the craze behind the mask. She knows how he feels; the irresistible lure.

Drugs are her demon, her addiction. Perfection is his.

So she picks him up, careful to avoid stepping on any of the pieces of glass; they don't need _both _of them incapacitated. And she half-drags, half-carries her meister out of the room, down the hallway, down the stairs, and lays him on the couch. He is motionless, but for his mouth.

"Oh please, oh please let me go back. I know where this piece goes now, I do! I can fix it, I can fix it, I can…" he holds one of the shards in his hand. She squeezes his wrist at its nerve until he drops it. She takes it and leaves the tortured teen in the hands of her seemingly silly, but actually quite capable, younger sister for first aid. Patty can handle this for now.

Liz goes upstairs and gathers together every single glass shaving off that floor, cursing them with everything she's got. _They _turned her meister, her fear-nothing all-caring all-powerful demigod _friend, _into that mass of blood and a shell.

She tosses the trash bag into her room, not caring enough to find a dumpster before returning to the boy she left on the couch. He's sitting up, now, his head in his hands. For once, though, he's not saying anything.

And that's what frightens Liz the most.

Because when he cries that he will never be a Grim Reaper if he can't do things "right," she can tell him he'll make a great one, he'll see. And when he has a fit and calls himself garbage, Patty can tell him he's "not garbage because garbage smells a lot worse."

But right now, he's not saying anything. So Liz kneels beside him and tries to get him to.

"Kid?" It's the second time in the past few minutes that she's whispered his name in that trembling voice. Back in the old days, before Kid really became family, she would have been disgusted to hear her voice like that for anyone but Patty. Now, it feels natural.

"I'm…I'm so sorry, Liz." He puts a hand on her head, and she stays where she is, motionless. She knows he doesn't express emotion well; that just isn't who he is. He didn't grow up learning to show love the way humans do. So she doesn't care that he's just sitting there, one hand over his eyes, the other resting heavily on the top of her head. He's trying, and that's what means the most.

They sit there well into the night, Patty hugging Kid, Kid with his hand on Liz's head.

...

Three days later, when Kid's bandages come off, the demon pistols present him with a gift: a seemingly-symmetrical glued-together glass sculpture. It's nothing special, really, it doesn't even look like anything. But they made it out of the glass from the vase, the glass left in the bag in Liz's room, so it _means _something.

"We wanted to prove that, just because something doesn't work out immediately, just the way you think it should, doesn't mean it can't become something good." Liz shifts on her feet, self-conscious. Kid beams; sure it's not pretty, but it's symmetrical, and he can't believe his weapons would do something like this for him.

Maybe they're getting somewhere. Maybe they'll be able to resonate someday soon.

He takes it from them and places it someplace high up, where it won't get broken if—_when,_ he corrects himself with a mental laugh—Patty trips again.

And Liz grins behind his back, because what neither Patty nor Kid knows is that, when no one was looking, Liz made the inside of the sculpture unsymmetrical. You can't see it unless you break it open, but she attached that piece of glass, the one that Kid was clutching when she found him, to the inside the most haphazard way she could.

She had wanted to prove, just to herself, that Kid could appreciate, even love, something unsymmetrical.

And, you know, it was nice to know he didn't have some super-power that told him when something wasn't symmetrical. It made her feel more at ease about the pictures she and Patty sometimes messed with in the halls.

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><p><strong>AN **_So, I've always been a tad obsessed with Kid's obsession. I always wondered how it came up with the Thompson sisters. After all, you can't just say "Oh, and by the way, not that you've agreed to be my weapons there's something I should tell you. I would rather be killed a horrible death-by-mallet by, per say, an angry pharoh creature that ruin its symmetry". So I liked the idea of it being a bonding experience. Tell me what you guys think!_

_This one was definitively darker than the past two, but just wait until next week: things get even darker. But the next chapter's my favorite so far in, not only this story, but the whole Fusion compilation as well. STAY TUNED!_

_Oh, and if you feel REALLY inclined to make up the fact that I only have 4 reviews and they were all for the first chapter, you could review the last chapter AND this one!_

_...please..._

_Anyhow, signing off!_

_~Rhythm Weaver~_


	4. Drawn Out Pain

**_A/N: _**So yes; just barely making my deadline...it's a bad sign... Anyways! Here's chapter four; for your enjoyment!

But first, I would like to say thank you to _TheAmazingBoo_ for suggesting Patty play a larger role in this fanfic. Looking back, I realize she's right, but there isn't much I can do in these last couple of chapters. SO I HAVE A SOLUTION!

I shall either: 1) extend this fanfic only and make it symmetrical with 8 chapters (it _is _Kid's, after all.)

. . . . . . . . OR: 2) write a couple of separate oneshots starring Patty and Kid in the earlier days of their partnership. I already have one in mind!

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><p><strong><em>Death The Kid #4: Drawn Out Pain<em>**

_When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;_

_When troubles come and my heart burdened be;_

_Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,_

_Until you come and sit awhile with me_

_..._

_You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;_

_You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;_

_I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;_

_You raise me up: to more than I can be._

_~You Raise Me Up; Celtic Women_

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><p>It's strange how someone can make transformation so extreme it changes their world, while the change itself is so, so simple. Something as basic as looking <em>out <em>the window instead of _in through_ it—it's such a little thing yet so huge.

Liz exhaled silently, her breath fogging up the cold, frosty window as she sat on the hotel suite's heater.

Lord Death had assigned Kid and his weapons to find and destroy a gang of kishin eggs that were wandering the streets of Brooklyn, picking their prey from the passersby, always hunting, always hungry…

Just like Liz and Patty used to crouch atop the crates or dumpsters and watch for the people who looked like they carried enough cash to make a mugging worth while.

Lord Death had claimed that the gang was just too good at hiding for the other weapon-meister teams that had been sent. A guide ("or guides!" he had cheerfully babbled) were needed to weed them out. Ones who knew the back streets and sleazy alleys. So of course, it hadn't mattered that it was Christmas, or that the sisters had hoped to spend the holiday at home, or that Kid had only recently recovered from the last mission. They were sent off again.

Patty bounced over, smiling childishly, but for once she was not laughing. She understood how her sister felt; at least, to some degree.

"Sis? What are you doin'?" Liz turned slowly, shaking her head gently.

"Nothing, Patty." She patted her younger sister's hair softly. "Just looking out the window. It might snow while we're here," she distracted her sibling when she looked like she was on the verge of arguing. "We could play in it; wouldn't that be fun?" They hadn't been able to play in it when they lived on the streets because there was nowhere to dry their clothes before the sun set. For fear of frostbite and freezing to death, they had had to keep as dry as possible.

"Yeah!" Patty clapped her hands and laughed, the moment of Quiet Patty lost forever to the world. A thought struck Liz: _If Patty's here with me, then where is…_

"Patty? Where's Kid?" Patty's laughter increased, until she was choking on air. Liz waited patiently, knowing any attempts to stop her would only cause her to laugh harder.

"The shower curtain won't hang symmetrically!" Patty finally spluttered.

"Oh, dear God," Liz groaned and pulled herself off the heater to go and find her neurotic meister. Sometimes, she truly wondered about that boy; the rest of the time, there was no doubt in her mind. "Kid?" she called him as she stepped onto the cold, pale tile behind him. He continued to dart from one side of the piece of fabric to the other, adjusting and readjusting, as he answered.

"It just won't hang symmetrically. Trash, filthy scum! It isn't _worthy _to hang!" Liz rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure the shower curtain already had a pretty undesirable job and it didn't exactly need to be _worthy _to hang, but she wasn't going to start contradicting the young reaper when he was in one of the states. One wrong word and he'd have an episode. So she just leaned against the wall and talked to him in a false encouraging voice, trying to get him to ease off and come out and enjoy the symmetrical living space that he'd already redesigned.

Eventually, the curtain gave in to Kid's wishes, and both meister and weapon were careful to avoid disturbing it as they left the space and reentered the bedroom. Patty was coloring at the desk beside the large window that Liz had been sitting in front of earlier—before she'd left to deal with Kid's breakdown. A couple of seconds after Liz and Kid had emerged, Patty gave a flourish of her crayon and sat it down.

"All done with the first three pages! Come see, Kid!" She spun in her chair, looking delighted with herself.

"Sure." Kid neatly walked over to the desk, placing one hand on the back of the girl's chair, the other flat against the desk. Liz could tell when he finished reading by the way his back froze and his arms stiffened.

"What do you think?" Patty giggled, looking up at his face in grinning expectancy. It took Kid a full eight seconds to answer.

"That's you and Liz, isn't it?" he asked in a carefully controlled voice. Liz could sense an undercurrent of emotion, but she couldn't quite decipher what it was.

"Uh-huh!" Patty turned back to look at the pictures she'd drawn.

"Where am I?" Kid questioned, his voice as light as it ever was, while still far more potent than usual.

"You're not there yet. You don't come 'till later." Liz's stomach sank. She could only imagine what Patty had drawn of their lives on the streets while they were back in their old town, and there was a _lot _that she had worked hard to hide from Kid.

"I…I think it's wonderful, Patty." He turned his head slightly, and even from behind him Liz could tell he was giving her sister a strained, wan smile.

"Yay! I'll show you when it's aaaall done!" She went back to drawing with fervor. Kid turned away, a look of intensity crossing his face. Liz was ashamed; she didn't know what Kid had seen in Patty's childlike colorings, but there wasn't much good from those days. She turned and slipped into the other room, hoping to stay unnoticed.

She had no such luck, though; not more than a couple moments later, Kid followed her.

They stood in silence until Liz spoke up.

"Kid, I don't know what Patty drew, but please don't let it bother you." Kid had a habit of taking the world onto his shoulders. In particular, Liz remembered the day they fought the Fisher King on the Runaway Express.

She had woken up that morning feeling gloomy because of a nightmare in which God had rejected her from heaven for all her killing. The day had only gotten worse from there, until Lord Death had rung them on the mirror and insisted they take the mission for the magic tool. Liz was miserable, and though she hid it well enough to fool her sister, there was no hiding it from her meister.

He had tried to cheer her up, ecstatically raving about how the train was _always on time!, _but it did nothing to help her mood, and she was distraught by the possibility of adding another killing to her name.

Kid hadn't shot the creature until the very last second. He'd let Patty shoot when he needed the King's movements restricted because he knew that from her trajectory, Patty wouldn't be able to do more than wound him. Liz might have been able to, but Kid hadn't wanted that weighing on her.

And even after they'd caught up to the Fisher King, after Kid's life had been threatened too many times to count, he still didn't shoot. He hauled the monstrosity up onto his own shoulders, planning to throw him out the window.

In the end, though, he hadn't been strong enough and he'd had to kill the thing. But he insisted they walk back to school alone instead of flying back with the teachers. It was partly to clear his own head, partly so that Liz could clear hers. By morning, she was herself again, and life went on; she figured if a young death god was willing to do so much for her, well, she was pretty sure she'd be able to slip through those pearly gates.

That was just one of many instances where Kid had put _everything _on the line for someone else; put the responsibility of ensuring their wellbeing—emotional, mental, and physical—on himself. Liz didn't want him dwelling on the weapons' pasts any more than he already did; every time he thought about it he tried even harder to move any hardships from the pistols to himself.

"Liz… how are you holding up? I hadn't realized returning to this city would be so difficult for you." Liz's head jerked up to face her meister.

"I'm fine; I don't know what would make anyone think differently." Kid looked at her, skeptical and disbelieving.

"That's not what Patty seems to think." Liz watched as his face turned regretful. "I apologize; I know this must be a raw subject. Just know, if you want to talk, I'm always here." He stepped to move around her, but Liz, before she even made a conscious decision to do so, lurched forward a step.

"Kid, wait." Kid stopped immediately and turned precisely around to face her. But once she had stopped him, she didn't know what else to say. She _wanted _to talk, but she didn't know what to talk _about, _or where to start, or where to end. Luckily, Kid understood.

"Let's sit," he said, motioning to the couch. Liz noted mutely and sat next to him. They stayed there, for a while as Liz fiddled with a fingernail. Kid waited until he was absolutely certain she was clueless about what to say before he prompted her.

"You looked terrified when you realized what Patty's story was about." He prompted. Liz completely stopped moving, hands perfectly still in the position they'd been in when Kid had made his point.

"Yeah, there's so much I don't want you…no, I don't want anyone…to see about back then." She gulped. "I'm pretty sure if you hadn't taken us in, taught us to be better people, we'd be the kishin eggs that are out there now." Kid shook his head.

"Perhaps Patty would have, but I don't believe you would have. I know you pretty well, Liz, and you haven't changed _that _much that something so large about your personality could have changed. Patty's joy of violence might lead her down that path, but you're not like that; you're practical, and you know you couldn't take care of you sister as a kishin egg."

"Kid, what you know about our past barely skims the surface." He nodded at her scoff.

"I know that, but that's only because I refuse to force you girls to tell me anything. It's up to you to tell me at your own pace, and however you'd choose to tell me. Patty's doing it in pictures and small words. You may have your own way. But I won't snoop around to find out what happened, and I won't pry into your private thoughts when it's on your mind." He paused, and then added. "I won't judge you, you know." Liz choked up; she'd never realized he'd noticed the way she'd space out, thinking about those days.

"Do you think there will be anyone I know?" she whispered.

"What?"

"When we find the kishin eggs." In those words, he heard a shiver of fear. He wanted to console her, tell her it would be okay, that he was going to take care of her, keep her happy, safe, and well. Overshadowing that, though, was his aversion to lie to her.

"I don't know Liz, but anyone who's there isn't worth worrying about."

"But I can't just blow it off, Kid! There's so much I wish I hadn't done that I can't stop thinking about! Everything I thought I had to do, everything I thought was a necessary evil… I spend so much time regretting it now. What if this turns out like that? What if, in a couple of years, I end up wishing I didn't hunt these kishin eggs on my streets?" she demanded.

Kid looked deep into her teary eyes. He tried to see how these two personalities—the fearful girl begging for answers, and the steely woman who would do anything for her family—fit together. He searched for a way to reconcile these shimmery brown spheres with the wooden mahogany he knows she's worn.

Liz watched his fathomless eyes swirl like molten gold and immediately regretted her words. She monitored his emotions in a panic as they briefly showed themselves before diving back behind his mask. Had he caught her slip-up? Had he noticed she'd still called the alleys of Brooklyn "her streets" after all these years; guessed that she still felt that connection?

Neither came up with a reliable answer.

"Liz, you have always done what you believed to be the best way to handle a situation. It may not have always been an ideal solution, but it was the most you could do in the circumstances. I have to go after the kishin eggs, but I will respect your decision whether you decide to stay here with Patty or come with me." He stood up and smoothed his suit. "Just make sure it's the choice you want to make." With those words of parting, Kid left the room.

Patty fell asleep lying next to her older sister that night, clutching her nearly-finished story in her fist. Kid slept, symmetrically, of course, in the other bed. Liz was unable to release her mind to unconsciousness, however. She still hadn't decided whether or not to accompany Kid tomorrow. He was strong; he probably didn't even need her and Patty. On the other hand, she knew it would mean a lot to him, and they didn't know how big or powerful this gang might be; she didn't want to send Kid to his death.

While she struggled to make up her mind, she found herself longing to see Patty's drawings. She _had _to know what Kid had seen! She needed to know what he knew, how much he had been told. She slid out of bed and padded over to the other side.

Carefully, patiently, she pried the wrinkled pages from her sister's grasp. Crinkling paper in hand, Liz snuck into the bathroom and, after she closed the door, switched on the light. She should read quickly; this really hadn't been meant for her eyes, and she never knew when the light would wake someone up.

Surprisingly, there were words to go with the drawings, but they weren't what struck Liz first. It was the craze of the pictures, the absolute chaos. And as she read on, Liz realized Patty had seen or deduced most of the stuff that Liz had tried to hide from her.

The first panel is a picture of Liz sitting on the heater, a far-away, depressed look on her face. You can see Kid's emotionless face in a thought bubble above her head. The caption read: **_The older girl is sad. She is remembering the old days because she is back again. The younger girl doesn't know what to say so she just goes over and asks what's wrong. The older girl says something about snow and then asks where the boy is. The boy is busy right now, busy with the curtain._**

_Oh, Patty, how could you?_ Liz inwardly sighed. Poor Kid; this made it sound like he'd abandoned her in her greatest time of need. It hadn't been that bad, not really. _Reading this must have really hurt him… _ She moved on.

The second panel was supposed to be a flashback from the first panel. In fact, Liz concluded after scanning ahead, the rest of what Patty had written so far appeared to be a flashback. She went back to the second panel.

**_The older girl tells the younger girl that they can't live in the house anymore because they don't have enough money to pay for it and the mother has gone away. The younger girl asks where the mother is, but the older girl just says "I'll tell you another day." They go sleep behind a big box full of trash until they are chased out. The older girl tells the younger girl to "change."_**

This panel contained a picture of Liz pulling a gun on a shopkeeper. Liz remembered it well; it was their first real day on the streets, and the first time she threatened anyone with her sister. Before, it had just been "I'll punch your face in." Somehow, threatening to kill with your sister was different—more disturbing.

Liz couldn't stand to look at the image any longer. She flipped the page to the next picture. This one had a picture of men coming at the "older girl" (Liz) on all sides. Once again, Liz was holding Patty in pistol-form, threatening the gross perverts with her condensed soul wavelength shot through her sister.

**_Lots of bad men sneak up on the older girl or come up to her or try to grab her arm. They say bad things to her, but the older girl always backs away, holding the younger sister so they have to let her go._**

Liz steeled herself and looked at the next panel. To her horror, Patty had drawn one of the worst mistakes Liz had made. _God, and Kid saw this too! _Liz wasn't sure she could face Kid tomorrow, knowing that he knew. What was she going to say when he noticed something was up? _Oh God Oh God Oh God…_

**_A few days later, one man comes up to her differently. He brings money and whispers something in the older girl's ear._**_ **The older girl starts to say no, but then changes her mind. She cries a little when she tells the younger girl to stay here, and not to let anyone near. She's going to go get some money for food.**_

There was a picture of the first disgusting pig that would forever be branded into her memory. He was holding out a few bills, and Liz was crying but still reaching for the bills. Patty was standing off to the side, face unseen. Liz wondered what those moments—unfortunately, there had been more; particularly when she was drunk or high—had done to her sister. She was totally concerned with herself when she came back, she hadn't thought about the effects it would have on Patty. _Am I that bad of a sister? _Liz wondered absently and she began on the next page.

**_After that day, the younger girl starts to find needles and cans lying around. The older girl tells her not to touch. The shots aren't from good doctors and the cans aren't soda. They why is the older girl using them? The older girl is crying less, which the younger girl thinks is good. But she laughs at not-funny times, and she laughs really loud and really long. That's not as good. The younger sister laughs more so that the older sister isn't alone._**

There was a full-page sized picture with the two of them laughing, sauntering down an alley. Liz was less distressed by this section; Kid had already known about her addictions. Liz still dreaded facing him again, but at least this part wasn't new to him. Liz continued on.

**_The older girl stalks the people who walk by with her gun-sister. Then they see the boy for the first time. He has funny white stripes in his hair, but he looks like he has lots of money so they try to take it. When he says no, the younger girl hopes the older girl will shoot him. She is hungry and wants his money for food. She is sort of glad it ended like this, because she likes the way it feels when the soul waves go rippling out her barrel, and she touches the weapon part of herself. _**

A picture of Liz, cold and cocky, and deadpan Kid looking up at her. That wasn't how Liz remembered it at all. She remembered being totally discombobulated by the unfazed boy who stared at her with contempt. Maybe it was all in the point of view.

**_Later, the girls are in trouble. The boy comes back and saves them. Then he saves them from everything because he asks them to be his weapons. The younger girl is very happy. Maybe her sister won't cry anymore!_**

There is a picture of Kid standing on a pile of men sent to kill the girls. He's glowing like the god he his. He has sparkles in his eyes—_Glitter glue, _Liz noted with slight amusement—and he's holding his arms out as he begs the two girls below him to join him in his quest for world perfection.

Liz remembered that moment and decided that, at the very least, Patty got that picture right. Kid deserved that holy glow and so much more for even just that one moment to shinning glory, and beyond that there were all the times he'd taken care of them. They owed him so much.

Liz rubbed her tired eyes on the back of her hand and realized repayment could begin with being ready to destroy tomorrow's kishin eggs. She needed to get into bed and sleep for whatever time was left. She gathered the pages, double-checked that they were in order, switched off the light, and silently drifted out of the bathroom and over to the bed.

Liz stopped by the edge of the bed, suddenly realizing a dilemma. If she didn't put the story back in Patty's hand she would know Liz had read it. Unfortunately, the hand that Liz had opened so agonizingly slowly had snapped back into a fist. If she tried to open it, she was pretty sure Patty would wake up. She stood there, debating her two unsatisfactory options.

A simultaneous tap on each shoulder caused Liz to nearly shriek aloud. She spun, dark memories drawn to the surface by Patty's drawings. Adrenaline coursed through her as buried instincts reminded her body to fear touch at night.

The terror was slow to die away, but once Liz could see clearly again, she saw Kid standing straight and tall right in front of her.

"If you give that to me, then I can put it on the desk. Then we can truthfully tell her that I was the one to move them." Liz flushed, embarrassed that he knew she'd crept into her sister's privacy and thankful that he had another plan.

"Good plan," she whispered, careful not to wake Patty, and handed him the papers. He smiled softly, reassuring her that he held nothing against her, and took the story to the desk. Liz didn't turn to watch him, so when he was returning her back was to him. He cautiously gave her a generous berth so as not to scare her again. Once he stood in front of her, her eyes once again locked on his face and stayed there.

"How long have you been awake?" Kid shrugged at the question.

"Since you went in. I realized this would be a problem, but I figured you had a right to know what she showed me. So I just waited until you were finished." Kid's words were unbelievable to Liz. He'd waited up to bail her out of trouble, even though tomorrow was so crucial?

Could she really mean that much to him?

"I'm coming with you tomorrow," she murmured. Kid smiled gently.

"Go to sleep, Liz. It's going to be a hard day." The demon pistol in question nodded.

"Okay Kid. You too." She turned, but even with her back turned to him she could still hear him chuckle and make a soft sound of agreement.

* * *

><p>~Epilogue 1: The Next Day—Hunting Through the Alleys of Brooklyn~<p>

Liz was leading the way, helping them scout out the next possible hiding place for the gang of kishin eggs. She and Patty were both in clothing nearly identical to what they used to wear on the streets, so they blended in. Kid had refused, but as long as he stayed a couple steps behind it didn't look like he was following the girls. They wanted to keep their prey unsuspicious, and lone meister without his weapons wouldn't be anything to worry about.

So far, no mention of the previous night had been made, nor did Liz plan to bring it up. She found it a little pathetic on her part that she'd reacted so emotionally to something that couldn't be changed.

A hand comes out of nowhere and grabbed her arm. _Disgusting yellowed nails, _she thought blankly as she fell with a sharp yank.

"Hey there, beautiful," a wet, scuzzy whisper dampened her ear. "How much does it take to get you to play?" Liz froze momentarily, and then started to struggle.

"Let go you creep!" She was really panicking, yanking and twisting every which way, but he wasn't letting go.

"Oh, come on, honey. Name your price."

"_Get off-!"_ She cut her shriek short as a foot came out of nowhere, its heel bashing the top of the pervert's head. He crumpled, hand relaxing and releasing the terrified girl. She pushed backwards, scooting as fast as she could. Once she was a fair distance away, she sat there panting.

"Sorry it took me so long." She looked up and saw her meister offering her his hand. She smiled, just a little, and accepted.

"I'm just glad you were here." And she was. As he pulled her into an unexpected and unpracticed hug, Liz was so, inexpressibly glad that Kid had gotten them off these streets and into a house.

"I'll always be here for you Liz. Just stay with me, and we'll get by together."

It's funny, how such a little thing like being inside, not outside, can make such an enormous difference.

* * *

><p><em>~Epilogue2: When Patty Finished~<em>

Patty ran to Kid when she finished her story. It felt good to share her past with him; it was like she could let it go as long as he knew. She couldn't wait to get rid of this last memory.

It had taken a while for her to finish, because this memory was actually two connected ones. She hadn't realized what had been happening when she heard it; it was only years later that her sister had told her what it had all meant.

She showed her boy who was practically her brother the memory of that night. The night she had to hide in her own house, barely breathing under a pile of clothes and blankets that had saved her when they searched the house.

"Is that your mother, Patty?" Patty was happy that he asked. It was important to her that he understood what the pictures said.

"Yep! Mother was too beautiful."

"What do you mean?"

"They took her for her beauty. If she was ugly then she'd have been fine." Patty only looked sad for a second before she laughed. "But that's okay because mother didn't care about anything! She just…left. We'd have to find food on our own for a week and we'd wait for her to come back!" Patty gave another childish giggle, as though her mother were coming home again.

Kid knew how this worked, though. His own mother had left for weeks at a time, and he'd _felt _the pain of abandonment. And he knew that, upon return, there was no happy parent-child reunion.

"Well, we have each other now, right Patty? You and Liz and me…we're our own family now. And we're a _real _family."

Patty laughed in pure joy. She was so lucky to have such an amazing brother.

* * *

><p><strong>AN **_So, as is custom, I shall now discuss the chapter you have just read._

_IT IS MY FAVORITE!_

_... Well, it was. But I read, reread, and edited it so much that it now bugs me because I very nearly have it memorized. Ugh._

_Just a warning ahead of time, the next chapter manga-based in such a way that there is a spoiler, but because it is the basis for the chapter you cannot skip just the spoiler. I will add a reminder at the beginning of the chapter when it's uploaded, but I thought I'd give advance notice here. You can read it if you haven't read the manga, everything you need to know is included in the chapter, but if you'd rather not know what happens in the manga then...well...don't read it._

_So this is farewell to all of my lovely readers who are skipping the last chapter! (Unless, of course, I decide to make this Fanfic symmetrical with 8 chapters) I hope you enjoyed! I loved having you!_

_For all the rest of you guys and gals, I'll see you next week, back in the same place!_

_~Rhythm Weaver~_


	5. Thank You

_A/N: _Ah, last chapter! (probably). So sad!

But keep this story on your alert list. I may continue it after I do the next two _Fusion _stories to have a stronger focus on Patty. Or, if I choose to do separate story/stories for her and Kid's relationship, I'll make an announcement on this story to alert y'all.

So what are you waiting for? You know the rest of the A/N is at the end of the chapter; go read and then I'll finish my spiel!

* * *

><p><strong><em>Death The Kid #5: Thank You<em>**

_If walls break down, I will __comfort __you__  
>If angels cry, oh I'll be there for you<br>You've saved my __soul_

_~Rule the World; Take That_

* * *

><p>They hadn't been able to save him from being sucked into that horrible book. That terrible, disgusting <em>repugnant thing <em>that Noah had "collected" their meister in. He had thrown them away to save them, just like he had taken them in off the streets to save them, and how had they repaid him?

It had taken far too long to save Death the Kid from the evil Book of Eibon. How much torture had he suffered? He hadn't really told anyone; not yet. They could see the bruises, the cuts and scrapes, but his eyes said far more.

They said: "You have no idea, do you?" and they were right.

**No one knew what Kid had been through.**

It was time for him to return home now. Liz supported him on one side, Patty on the other. It was the first time they'd been able to do this without him complaining about the asymmetry of it. Patty might not have noticed this—or maybe she did, the girl was more observant than anyone gave her credit for—but Liz definitely did. She noticed his ripped-off sleeves and the ringed scars that encircled his wrists and the smudges on his face that looked like pen or marker.

And always, that haunted, haunted look in his once-vibrant eyes.

The sisters carried him inside and took him to his room. They had made _absolutely certain _that that room of the house remained undisturbed so that there would be at least one room in this house that was symmetrical, so that they would have somewhere to put Kid no matter his condition.

**They never imagined it would be this bad.**

"Thank you, girls."

He sat on his bed somewhat gracelessly. Liz looked at Patty, waiting to take her cue from her little sibling. She couldn't imagine what would have happened if she had been placed in Kid's position. Would she have been able to throw Patty away, leaving herself utterly defenseless? She liked to think she'd be able to, but doubt gnawed away at her. Patty reached out to take Kid's hand.

**"It's okay now, Kid."**

She smiled reassuringly at him. Kid attempted a smile back, achieving only a grimace.

"I know, Patty. I'm sure I'll be back to myself by the time you see me tomorrow morning." Liz hoped so, but she had the sinking suspicion that it would be a pseudo-Kid; some mask of normalcy that Kid would wear to make it seem like no matter what he had gone through, it hadn't affected him in the slightest. Liz knew better.

**She couldn't imagine how badly he was hurting, but she knew it tortured him; that it followed him.**

"If you need anything, let us know." Liz left, taking Patty with her. They washed up and went to sleep; they had been on a difficult mission as well. But as she slept; Kid's condition continued to plague Liz. The reoccurring nightmare she'd been suffering from since the Kid-napping tweaked itself to fit the circumstances.

_Noah took Kid! Nononnono Kid! KidKidKidKidKid…_

_ She transformed. No one takes her best friend, her meister, away without her consent. And she would _never _give that consent. This was the first time that she was terrified as she held her sister, a power warehouse, in her hands. Because Kid was gone, ripped away from them._

_ If Noah could take Kid, how easy would it be to take her? More importantly, how easy would it be to take Patty?_

_ The thought froze Liz's finger on the trigger._

"COWARD!" _Patty screams, again and again and again…. "_COWARD!" _Then, it changes. She can see Kid's face and his haunted eyes in the cover of the book._

_ "Kid!" she calls, but he can't hear her: it's only a reflection. And then he opens his mouth… and screams._

_ And screams and screams…._

_ And she screams with him, horrified, because she realizes she's watching Kid's face as he's tortured. And, as Patty yells at her:_

_ "It's all your fault! If you'd been faster, we could have shot Noah before he expected it. If you'd shot him, maybe Kid would've been out of that book three minutes after he went in!" I know, Patty, I know!_

_ "Your fault, your fault, your fault…"_

**_And Kid keeps screaming in agony._**

Liz woke up in a cold sweat, panting, Patty's accusations and Kid's scream still trailing after her. She knows it's ridiculous, but…

She has to see Kid before she can sleep again; she has to make sure he's okay.

She slips silently out of her room, in only the way a Brooklyn Devil, one of the infamous Thompson Sisters, could. She ghosts into her meister's bedroom the same way, and sits beside to his bed. Before she knows it, she's drifting and floating in the moonlight.

**Sometime later, she hears his shaky voice.**

"You know, you really startled me, Liz." She jolts at the soft reprimand and spins her head to face him, startled herself. His face seems gentler in this light, less severe.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" She gets up to leave, but he shakes his head.

"No I…suppose I woke myself up." It's only when she's standing that she can see the way his hand grips the quilt for dear life, the way his chest rises and falls faster than usual. She sits down again, this time on the bed itself. He sits all the way up as well.

"Nightmare?" she questions, whispering. He looks away, ashamed. So, to reassure him, she admits to the reason she's lurking in his room uninvited. "Me too."

**His silence stretches on.**

"You can talk to me, you know," she barely gets the words out, he's already speaking.

"I didn't really think I see you girls again. I thought…I wasn't going to make it out." He shuddered, and Liz could see the unbidden memories rising in his mind.

"I can't _stand _it, Liz. Everything you and father have been trying to tell me about my love of symmetry, how I need to 'tone it down' or 'be careful' all right there. He used that, Liz, and God, I thought I'd die." He was shivering now, but Liz didn't dare to suggest another blanket. She didn't want to make him clam up again.

"He drew on my face, only _half, _and made me look in the mirror. The beatings in the beginning, before he found out, were _nothing _compared to that: _nothing._" He gestured to his arms for emphasis "He tore off _one _shirt sleeve and left the other on. So many things, over and over…" his voice drifted off. Liz waited a few heartbeats, she could hear hers—it was very loud—before continuing.

"It's over now, Kid, I promise...I swear it. You cleaned your face and we'll get you a new shirt and we'll _never _let them touch you again. _Never." _She was vehement.

"But you know what, Liz? It _isn't _over, and I don't know when it will be! Do you know what I hear in silence? I hear his voice telling me all the horrible things he'll do if he catches any of my friends. There is no darkness anymore, not for me: anytime there's nothing else to see, I see his face. Leering and showing me everything I don't want to see. I feel that _damned _pen marking only _half _of me, and I know…

**"I know the torture continues…"**

Liz is crying, huge silent drops rolling down her face. Kid wipes them away, awkwardly, with a trembling hand.

"Now don't _you _go crying. It's not like I'd let anything like that happen to you." His face darkened. "That's why I haven't said anything about it to you and Patty. I figured…it wasn't something you two needed to hear."

"I'm sorry!" Liz could hold it inside herself no longer. She started sobbing.

"_What?_" Kid was utterly confused now. Why was she apologizing; he didn't understand. All he could do was put his arm around her shaking shoulders.

"It's all my fault! If I'd transformed faster…if I'd shot him when I had the chance…" she couldn't speak anymore, she was crying too hard.

"No! Liz, look at me." She kept her head in her hands. "_Look _at me, Liz; or are you too repulsed by my asymmetrical face?" She looked up: she didn't need her meister to feel like garbage his first night back.

"Liz, I threw you and Patty out of the way because I _knew _something like this would happen. Noah wouldn't have been killed, or even knocked backwards a foot, by a whole barrage of shots from you and Patty together, much less a single gun. You would have gotten you and your sister sucked in after me. And then what? It was all for nothing? No one knows where we are, so we're there until they kill us? They use you girls against me?"

"We would _never _turn against you, Kid! You have to know that!" Liz choked out, horrified.

"I know that. I meant…they could have hurt you girls too. I think—no, I know—that would have been my breaking point. That would have either killed me or turned me mad." Liz looked at her tortured meister's intense face.

"Kid…" she didn't know what to say. Then, she remembered what she had told Tsubaki she still needed to tell him.

"Thank you, Kid." She wasn't sure he'd understand at first; understand that she meant "for everything." But then he smiled and squeezed the arm he still had around her shoulders.

"I know, Liz. And you're very welcome."

* * *

><p><em>AN So there you have it! The (supposedly) last chapter of _Admiration! _I hope you liked it, and I truly appriciate all my reviewers!_

_Strangely enough, I have nothing to add that is specifically related to this chapter. Weird, I know._

_(Maybe I'm just depressed. Our homecomming game was postponned yesterday because of the rain, and not enough band members could come to the game today for us to come and play. So I didn't get to pound on my newly-won-through-audition snare today. *Cries on the inside*)_

_(BUT ON THE UPSIDE I GOT MY PROVISIONAL LICENCE TODAY! WOOT!)_

_(I'm just a little bit of an emotional roller-coaster today. Can you tell?_

**_But back to business:..._**

_So you should all keep an eye out for _Complexity, _the Black*Star and Tsubaki installment in this compilation. Yay!_

_If you haven't already, you should check my profile for updates. There's a terrible oneshot posted that I wrote really late at night to get rid of some inner confusion called _As Honest As She Knows How. _I don't know, it just kind of happened..._

_But if you check my profile you'll get to see the plan for the next oneshot I'll be uploading; and I think it's 5,000-6,000 words long, if not a little over 6,000. I've still got to finish editing, though. But I've started! And it should be up soon enough!_

_Wishing all y'all Peace, Love, Joy, and Cookies,_

_~Rhythm Weaver~_


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